


Muddle

by yeaka



Category: Bee Movie (2007)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vanessa makes dinner while Barry works on the rental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muddle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Bee Movie, Lego, Barbie, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Cooking for Barry is wonderfully easy. She doesn’t even have to double her recipes. She just makes whatever she wants to eat and breaks him off a tiny end, and he almost always marvels at it. Everything with more than two ingredients is wonderfully complex to him, and almost every dish she makes is a first-time taste. 

Of course, there are some things that just don't work. He can’t get the full pleasure of pizza, for instance, because he simply can’t cut through the crust and cheese in the right proportions, and she can’t do it small enough for him, so he only winds up getting the cheese and sauce. Alcohol has him nearly unconscious with a single drop, and one sliver of cilantro can overwhelm his pallet. But every boyfriend requires consideration, and he gives thought back to her in spades. 

Tonight, Vanessa’s making dip; chips are easy for him to break off for his own sizes. They have a movie rented, one specially picked to correspond with the box of Lego sitting on their table. The set was worth it for the pirate theme, but it’d be nice to know what exactly they’re building. 

She’s chopping green onions when the telltale click-clacks start in from the other room: an unmistakable sound that she’s grown used to. Her first instinct is always jealousy—whatever she’s doing couldn’t possibly be as fun as what Barry’s up to. But unfortunately, even though her odd boyfriend is the perfect size for children’s toys, she’s a grown woman that can’t play all day. 

As she stirs in corn, she still calls over her shoulder, “Are you rebuilding the rental again?” Barry’s the one that started calling it the rental, and he does pay a small portion of the rent, even though she’s insisted a hundred times that it’s fine—he takes up no space at all and never makes a mess. He gives some of his sizeable income anyway, and they allot it mostly to his sprawling condo of a Lego fortress, though Vanessa secretly thinks of the whole apartment as shared.

“I’m just adding on a guest suite for when Adam visits,” Barry calls back. It always amazes her how far his voice can carry, but then, the fact that _bees_ are sentient and fluent in her language is amazing enough. The world is a strange place, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. After a pause filled with more clattering bricks, Barry adds, “Do you think if I put the skull and cross bones flag over his bed, it’ll scare him?”

Vanessa says, “Yes,” without hesitation. She doesn’t know Adam as well as Barry, but she knows enough to think the pirate set might not be the best source for his guest room. “Should we buy another set?”

“Nah. These things are overpriced.”

True enough, but they’re fun. Dreadfully fun. And Vanessa’s never had any particular inkling for kids beyond their happy smiles when she hands them a flower from behind her counter, so this is likely her only excuse to shop in toy departments. Besides, the flower shop is booming. She decides for them, “We can afford some Lego, Barry.” His response is a noncommittal grunt; he’s probably engrossed in floor plans. 

By the time she’s got the dip all assembled, it looks rather impressive. Everything is finely chopped so that Berry doesn’t wind up with chunks bigger than his head, and he should even be able to scoop out his own portions into some of his miniature goblets. After that moment of pride at her handiwork, Vanessa scoops up the bag of chips under her arm, the edge of the bowl clutched in her other hand. 

She heads into the living room, already looking for the Lego display on the coffee table. 

She spots Barry, smiles, and then it all goes horribly wrong; her bare foot lands squarely on a piece of Lego. She knows immediately what it is, having made this mistake before—the little spindles, while good for stacking, are nothing short of excruciating when driven into a foot. She yelps and instantly lets go of the bowl. It flies out of her hand, too late to snatch it back, and splatters all over the rug and up towards Barry’s home, the chips landing beside her with a loud crunch. At least the bag’s closed. 

Her rug’s a wreck. Barry’s home is salvageable, but the outer wall will need to be rinsed. Her foot’s throbbing. But her first thought is, “Barry? Barry, are you okay??”

His little head buzzes out from his half-made roof of brown and black Lego pieces. Thankfully, he isn’t drenched in salsa. “The rental caught it,” he answers, flying up and over the wall. He only glances once at the damage, instead swooping straight for her. She stays toppled over on the carpet, bringing her foot around. 

She peels the offending Lego piece off with a wince, and Barry says sincerely, “I’m sorry, Vanessa. Darn it, I thought I had all the parts in check this time...”

“It’s okay,” she mumbles, rubbing her sole. It’s not his fault; she toys with the leftover pieces just as much; it could’ve easily been her. Her foot will be alright. Barry buzzes down to it anyway, running his little hands over her bruised skin like he can massage it away. 

The bigger concern is the carpet, which she’s in no mood to clean. Her stomach rumbles.

Barry suggests gently, “Maybe we should eat out.”

She should clean up. But she doesn’t want to. She’ll do it later. She sighs, “Yeah,” and waits for him to buzz upwards before she gets back on her feet. “I’ll just grab my jacket.” He followers her to the closet, ready to ride her shoulder once she’s dressed.

On the way back to the front door, keys in her pocket, she suggests, “What about a Barbie dream house?” Less fun to build, but less hazardous to step on. 

“Pink?” Barry mutters. “I don’t know; I’m more of a neutral colours kinda guy...”

“And it might be too tall,” she realizes belatedly.

“Well,” he muses, “I can fly...”

They close the door to the mess of salsa and construction.


End file.
